Overheard

Tuesday night was one of those spectacularly unexpected perfect New York nights. I could go on and on about how great it is to call the friend you're about to meet on the street and play the "38th and 8th" "37th and 9th" "I'll meet you on the north side of the street" game when in fact you see eachother across the street and wave NE corner to SW corner. I could talk about the beauty of running into a diner and saying 'I need a grilled cheese and french fries on this table in 5 minutes!" right before you shove it all in your mouth and run off to see your friends $2.5 million dollar musical where you cried as soon as the lights came up on him on stage and you realized that you're a grown up now and your dreams are coming true.

I could say lots of things, but it's the others who say them best.

Walking out of work:

Guy promoting comedy show on corner: Hey! Do you like stand-up comedy?
My usual response: No. I have no sense of humor.
Guy: What about black men? ...nice black men....? TAKE ME HOME WITH YOU!!!!

and 6 blocks south as you groan and hesitate before jumping over a huge puddle of crap colored snow melt:

Dude in your face: Shut up, BITCH.

Ah, I love New York.